<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>all stories need truth by kinneyb</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27151747">all stories need truth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb'>kinneyb</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:43:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,331</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27151747</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian blinked again. He was dreaming, obviously. That was the only logical conclusion and that meant this man, white-haired and devastatingly handsome, was Geralt. Shani had been right—he had lost his mind. He had become so enamored by the witcher that he was literally dreaming of him.</p>
<p>A man he had never met. A man that was called a monster by much of the Continent, but not to him.</p>
<p>Julian laughed suddenly. He even knew of Jaskier, the name he had sworn to take once he was a proper bard. Geralt—he wondered if this was what he really looked like, surely he couldn’t be this handsome—sat up, frowning at the reaction.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>203</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>all stories need truth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written for one of my supporters!!!! i hope yall enjoy </p>
<p>twitter: queermight / korrwrites<br/>tumblr: korrmin</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Julian was—well, he was <em>bored</em>.</p>
<p>Sitting near the back, he stared at the professor near the front of the room, talking loudly about—<em>something</em>. Julian had stopped listening a long time ago, tapping his fingertips against the wood. He side-eyed the students around him, all reverently watching the professor. Julian couldn’t be bothered.</p>
<p>Truth be told, he had enjoyed his first few weeks at Oxenfurt, learning about things he had never known about. Julian had always been a curious child and that hadn’t changed on his eighteenth birthday, which was exactly why he had set off for Oxenfurt.</p>
<p>But now the thrill of newness was gone and Julian had nothing else to learn. (Of interest, at least, the professors could try all they liked but he would never care for science or history, not the way he cared about the arts.)</p>
<p>Now he was itching to be out of these walls, on the road to grander adventures, his trusty lute by his side, but he knew he wouldn’t survive long on his own. As much as he was bored of Oxenfurt, it was <em>safe</em>. He had heard enough stories - from professors, and even other students with far more life experience than him (the bastards) - to know not all places were like that. If he were to leave on his own, he’d likely be asking for death.</p>
<p>“You look like your cat just died,” Shani said as she sat across from him, setting her own tray down. Julian turned his nose up at the stew that was a concerning shade of yellowy-brown.</p>
<p>“No, worse,” he replied as he dramatically sprawled across the table. “I’m <em>bored</em>.”</p>
<p>Shani quirked an eyebrow. She was no longer amused by his antics, unfortunately. “Find a hobby,” she said like it was truly that simple.</p>
<p>He pouted. “I have a hobby,” he reminded her. “Hobbies,” he corrected. “Playing and writing.”</p>
<p>That was his problem, he supposed, he played more than he wrote. The lute was basically part of him by now, an extension of his body, but it was almost too easy. The writing - making songs of his own - took a little more work. Probably because he was so <em>bored</em>.</p>
<p>“You do,” she agreed with a small smile, “and you’re not too shabby, but you lose your way too much.” He stared at her, not quite understanding. She sighed. “Find something to write about that might actually hold your interest for longer than a day.”</p>
<p>Julian nearly laughed. “And what in the world is possibly interesting enough to do that?”</p>
<p>She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she confessed, “but think on it. I’m sure you’ll find something.”</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>And he did, just days later, when his professor mentioned something about <em>witchers</em>. Julian wasn’t an idiot, of course, he knew about the existence of witchers - protectors of humankind and yet despised by them - but he had never cared to learn more about them, beyond the stuff he had overheard as a child.</p>
<p>Now though, as he sat back, listening to his professor talk about witchers in their keeps, taking to the Path every year to hunt monsters, he found himself itching to know more.</p>
<p>“Have you ever actually met a witcher?” he asked, eyes wide and curious.</p>
<p>The professor - some stuffy man, white hair and wrinkles around his eyes - cleared his throat. “Briefly, long ago,” he answered. “Not a pleasant fellow. Really, not so different from the monsters they hunt. Just as crude and lacking of manners.”</p>
<p>He said it like it was a simple fact of life, like there was nothing to be done about it.</p>
<p>Julian disagreed on principle. He was never one to believe things were quite so black and white, even witchers. <em>Especially witchers,</em> he thought with an unexpected passion burning in his chest. “What was his name?” he pushed, and the professor frowned, looking displeased.</p>
<p>“I don’t remember,” he said stiffly.</p>
<p>Julian waited, and so did every other student in the room. Finally he sighed.</p>
<p>“Gerald, or - or Geralt, I think.” He shook his head, stroking his beard. “It was a long time ago. Now moving on,” he said with a pointed look in Julian’s direction. He simply smiled innocently. He had all the information he needed. For now.</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>“Witchers—”</p>
<p>Jaskier paused, gauging Shani’s delayed reaction. Finally she lowered her spoon with a small smile. “No longer want to be a bard?” she teased, and he rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>“I mean,” he continued, “they surely go on plenty of adventures, saving cursed princes and trapped princesses - ”</p>
<p>Shani let out a laugh. “I don’t think so, but go on.”</p>
<p>Julian ignored her, biting the inside of his cheek as he stared ahead at nothing, imagining it - what was his name? <em>Geralt </em>riding on a lovely horse, loyal and dark, defending humanity even when humanity shunned him, swords on his back.</p>
<p>Sadly that was about all he could imagine, struggling to picture what he could look like.</p>
<p>“I could write about him.” At Shani’s look, he very nearly flushed before quickly clearing his throat. “Them. All of them, but - well, I overheard a professor earlier mention one by the name of Geralt - ” Her eyes widened a little and he abruptly paused, waiting.</p>
<p>“I’ve heard of him,” she said. “In town. People, well. They mention him. He doesn’t have the best reputation.”</p>
<p>Julian frowned. “Yes, well, I’m sure they haven’t given him a proper chance,” he said briskly. He wasn’t sure why he felt so compelled to defend a complete stranger but he did. “Witchers are treated the same as the monsters they hunt, monsters they hunt for <em>us</em>.”</p>
<p>Shani nodded, putting her hands up. “I don’t agree,” she assured him, “but it isn’t like we know for certain what kind of men he is, or any of them are. I mean, I’ve never met one and neither have you.”</p>
<p>“We could,” he said. “One day.”</p>
<p>She simply shrugged, and Julian could tell she didn’t care much, one way or the other, not the way he did. Biting his lip, he returned to his supper.</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>He wrote his <em>first </em>original piece that night. It was still a rough draft in the morning, messy and completely novice, but that didn’t stop Julian from beaming when he reread it, not once but twice. His excitement only faded when he realized it was a complete lie.</p>
<p>A tale of how he met Geralt, the Butcher of Blaviken. He squinted at that line, trying to remember why he had wrote it down. The professor hadn’t said it, or Shani, he didn’t think, but he must’ve been mistaken. Shaking his head, he read on.</p>
<p>They met in a tavern, the story goes, Julian scrambling after Geralt and offering to rewrite his reputation. Geralt was a little rough around the edges, like the rumors say, but he also proved he wasn’t even half the monster they said he were by protecting Julian against the elves.</p>
<p>Elves are a bit of an lazy choice, he thought now in the morning, but something about it felt—right. Which was wrong, because the whole ballad from start to finish was a complete and utter lie.</p>
<p>Despite that, Julian couldn’t deny that the song were good. For the first time, ever, really, Julian had felt inspired and the inspiration <em>hadn’t </em>faded before the song was finished. He had tried so many times and never been able to finish, but now he felt like he could write a million more and never grow tired. He bit his lip as his eyes flickered to the ink, a new idea already forming.</p>
<p>Surely a man like Geralt - human or no - would have many people falling over him. People like Julian, and others. Like pretty sorceresses with black hair and striking eyes, drawn to the powerful form of a witcher.</p>
<p>He suddenly shook his head, chest tight.</p>
<p>“Right, well,” he announced to the empty room. Breakfast would be served any second. He could write more later.</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>And he did just that over the course of the next few months.</p>
<p>He wrote songs about the kinds of adventures he imagined a witcher would have, and with an inspiring bard by his side at that. His latest piece of work had featured a sorceress, just a nameless woman of beauty and sharp wit. It was one of the slower pieces he had written, soft and full of the kind of love that hurt.</p>
<p>Before that he had written about a djinn and three wishes. Jaskier had absently rubbed at his neck while writing, feeling oddly empathetic for his fictional counterpart but he knew it was just that; fiction. Every word of it, but it was working, and it wasn’t like Geralt had anything to lose.</p>
<p>(Witchers were disliked for simply existing, but Geralt seemed to have an especially terrible reputation.)</p>
<p>At first he kept the songs personal, shoved under his mattress and a secret from all, but eventually he performed a few in the courtyard one evening, just to test the foreign words on his tongue, and smirked at Valdo when applause erupted from the listeners, a mix of students and even a few professors.</p>
<p>(He only played certain ones, others felt too personal and he couldn’t explain why.)</p>
<p>“You don’t even <em>know </em>him,” Valdo hissed at the end of his performance, stalking after him.</p>
<p>Julian slowed, glancing back at him from over his shoulder. “And how would <em>you </em>know that? Ever had a conversation with the man?”</p>
<p>Valdo blinked once before he flushed, red to his ears. “You don’t—”</p>
<p>“Exactly,” Julian interrupted breezily, winking before he turned away and returned to his room.</p>
<p>He might not know Geralt, but he felt like he did. Every word he wrote made him feel closer to the man, like their adventures were real. Like he had truly befriended him decades ago. If he focused enough, closing his eyes in the dark, he swore he could hear the man’s grunt, as familiar as the sound of quill on parchment.</p>
<p>He knew that was pure nonsense though; he had never gone beyond his home and Oxenfurt.</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>Julian heard more and more about Geralt as the months went on; evidently, his reputation was no better than before. He heard many talks of the white-haired witcher (apparently his vision of him had been mostly accurate, white hair and yellow eyes) and how he never let a human near, not unless they were paying him for a job.</p>
<p>Truthfully he just found the whole thing kind of sad. Everyone, even witchers and mages, needed someone. They could deny it all they wanted, but it was true. Life existed for the company, that was Jaskier’s belief. You were in charge of who you surrounded yourself with, at least once you reached a certain age.</p>
<p>It was why he was at Oxenfurt despite his parents, who had seemed displeased with the idea of him seeking higher education when it was unnecessary (or so they had said; “<em>Julian, you don’t need to; you are our only heir, all of this will be yours one day”</em>).</p>
<p>It was that last conversation with his parents, at only seventeen and a half, that had set his decision in stone. He needed to get out of there. Needed to make his own decisions and live for himself.</p>
<p>And now he was at Oxenfurt, just as lost and yet with even less money, writing songs about a pitiful witcher - hated by all - that Julian knew he would probably never meet.</p>
<p>(What kind of witcher would visit Oxenfurt, after all?)</p>
<p>The songwriting was a soothing balm to the hurt of reality. An escape, Shani had called it. It was a world where Julian was free and his dreams had flourished; a bard beloved by all, doing what he could to fix the ruined reputation of his dearest and oldest friend.</p>
<p>Untrue, perhaps, but no one had to know that. Certainly Geralt wasn’t in a rush to correct the lie. He had more important things to focus on, like not <em>dying</em>. And it wasn’t like Julian was performing for grand audiences. It would be a miracle if Geralt ever even heard one of his songs.</p>
<p>(Secretly Julian kind of hoped he <em>would</em>, hoped he would hear one and beeline it for Oxenfurt, where he would be angry with Julian at first but then he’d realize they were destined to meet. To be friends to the end of times; a witcher and his bard.)</p>
<p>At the very least it was a wonderful way to waste his time, writing about adventures he could only dream of.</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>“Isn’t it sad?” he mourned, the sun warm on the back of his neck. It was the peak of summer and Julian was wasting away in Oxenfurt, he just knew it, still eighteen but barely. Shani side-eyed him.</p>
<p>“Do I even want to ask?” she replied in that way that meant she was actually quite curious.</p>
<p>He looked up toward the sky and squinted at the misshapen clouds. “Geralt,” he said, completely missing the roll of her eyes. “He must be so lonely out there.”</p>
<p>If only he knew what he was missing, he thought but didn’t dare to say. He hadn’t quite lost his marbles just yet. His fingers itched, longing to run back to his room and start a new piece. Shani elbowed him. “You speak as if you know the man.”</p>
<p>Julian quickly ducked his head, cheeks warm. He knew she was right, but the thing was—“I kind of feel like I do,” he admitted. “Or—like I should, if that makes sense.” One look at Shani and he knew she didn’t understand, face twisted in confusion.</p>
<p>He had never quite believed in fate, but for once he wondered if he’d been wrong and there was a higher power that had brought Geralt to him. Not in person, maybe, but still.</p>
<p>Maybe, in another life, they were really meant to be friends. <em>Companions</em>, he corrected in his mind.</p>
<p>“A witcher and a bard would make quite a pair,” she said finally, and he couldn’t agree more.</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>Julian was having a hard week when he sat down and pulled out his materials, roughly slapping them down on his desk. Valdo, the bastard, had pulled his latest trick and had been cruel enough - even Julian would never - to shatter his lute.</p>
<p>(“Not like you need it,” he had said loftily. “You’re hardly a real bard, wasting all your time on silly fiction about—”</p>
<p>Julian would never know the rest of his sentence, though he had a pretty good idea, because the next thing he knew he was punching the bastard with all his might, which admittedly wasn’t much but it was worth it for the sheer thrill of watching the blood pour from his nose.)</p>
<p>Now though <em>he </em>was the one being punished as if <em>he </em>had started the altercation.</p>
<p>He hated Valdo with a passion, yes, but he would never go as far as to break his lute. Even he had limits. Somehow a punch to the face was deemed as worse than a broken lute. Idiots, the lot of them. A lute was a <em>far </em>greater loss and quite frankly Julian simply didn’t have the funds to replace it on his own. For the first time in a long time he actually regretted leaving home.</p>
<p>Maybe his parents had been right, he thought bitterly as he dipped his quill. He was wasting his time, just like Valdo said. At this rate there was no hope for his future; some of the other students liked his performances well enough but that was hardly enough to guarantee a life as a bard. Too much competition and many of them had actually <em>experienced </em>the kinds of things Julian could only dream about.</p>
<p>“If only I had really met you,” Julian sighed wistfully, staring at the few first lines of his newest piece, scribbled messily. It wasn’t his best work, not by far, but the weight on his shoulders lessened as he continued it.</p>
<p>Ironically it wasn’t a very happy piece. Geralt and his bard, Julian, descending a mountain to hunt a dragon. The twist was obvious—Geralt would never kill a dragon and soon they discovered the depth of the situation. An egg.</p>
<p>But that wasn’t the crux of the story, or the ballad. It was the way Geralt, overwhelmed by so much, snapped at Julian. Julian found his writing growing messier by the second, his hands shaking with quiet emotion.</p>
<p>He couldn’t tell if he was sad or angry or both, bottom lip quivering as he continued to write. The lyrics spilled out of him, like recalling a distant memory that had hurt him so deeply he could never truly forget it.</p>
<p>Finishing, he took a shaky breath and set his quill down, uncaring as the ink stained the edge of the parchment. His eyes moved quickly, rereading his work.</p>
<p>Julian, heartbroken, wishing he was brave enough to tell Geralt how he really felt. But he wasn’t; he had never been afraid of Geralt, but he had always been scared of his own feelings, too big for his chest and overwhelming. Instead he did the only other thing he could and turned to walk away, eyes stinging. He hoped Geralt would call out to him but he didn’t.</p>
<p>Somehow the pain felt startlingly real. It was stupid, he knew, but the ache of his heart didn’t care.</p>
<p>Julian closed his eyes and took another deep breath.</p>
<p>“Right, well,” he said to the empty room, a habit he surely should break. “Time for bed.”</p>
<p>It was only once he was in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark, that he let himself truly wish for a different life. Like the one he’d written about so many times, dangerous but thrilling adventures with Geralt, who was admittedly probably nothing like he wrote him. Rough around the edges but with a kind heart. It was all hopeless dreaming in the end and he knew it.</p>
<p>He’d be lucky just to be a successful bard, away from Oxenfurt and on his own. The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was a man with snow-white hair and piercing yellows eyes.</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>Julian opened his eyes slowly, yawning loudly as his eyes focused on—the sky, clear and startlingly blue, nothing like the white ceiling of his room at Oxenfurt. His first instinct was panic, and then fear, because what the fuck?</p>
<p>If he’d been kidnapped, how had he slept through it?</p>
<p>“Finally,” he heard from his side, and his heart stopped in his chest, completely still. Slowly he turned his head, eyes wide, to the sight of a stranger and yet there was something familiar in the pure whiteness of his hair, nearly glowing under the morning sun, or the yellow of his eyes, pupils thin and catlike. Not far from him was a lute balanced against a tree.</p>
<p>Julian felt like he knew that lute and yet it was not the one he had at Oxenfurt.</p>
<p>“I didn’t want to wake you,” the stranger continued, looking off to the side, Julian could only blink dumbly, “but now that you’re awake on your own—”</p>
<p>Without a word, he bent over and Julian gaped at the sight of a man like him bowing to <em>him. </em></p>
<p>“I know you’ll probably turn me away and I’ll respect that, truly, but I have to apologize first,” he said, speaking as if Julian knew him, speaking as if he should <em>understand </em>what he was apologizing for. “What I said was completely uncalled for and—” He looked up, eyes open and raw, mouth a thin line. “Untrue. Jaskier, I could never regret being your friend.”</p>
<p>Julian blinked again. He was dreaming, obviously. That was the only logical conclusion and <em>that </em>meant this man, white-haired and devastatingly handsome, was Geralt. Shani had been right—he had lost his mind. He had become so enamored by the witcher that he was literally <em>dreaming </em>of him.</p>
<p>A man he had never met. A man that was called a monster by much of the Continent, but not to him.</p>
<p>Julian laughed suddenly. He even knew of <em>Jaskier</em>, the name he had sworn to take once he was a proper bard. Geralt—he wondered if this was what he really looked like, surely he couldn’t be <em>this </em>handsome—sat up, frowning at the reaction.</p>
<p>“I—prepared for a lot of responses,” he said slowly, squinting, “but I can’t say I expected this.”</p>
<p>Julian pressed a hand to his chest, forcing the laughter to stop with a painful hiccup. Geralt watched him skeptically, a hint of worry in his eyes. Nothing like the rumors, the kindness in those eyes.</p>
<p>“Were you cursed while we were separated? Sick?” he asked far too seriously, removing a glove. Julian had to suppress more laughter, feeling delirious, until suddenly Geralt was reaching out for him and he froze, heart beating faster as he pressed a hand to his forehead, a thoughtful quirk to his mouth. “Mmm. Not warm.”</p>
<p>Julian barely even registered standing up, scrambling to his feet and out of a—bedroll (detailed dream). Geralt watched him without standing up, head tilted back.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding sincere, looking guilty. “I shouldn’t—I know, apology or not, we can’t just return to the way we were.” He sounded sad, so sad. Julian had an irrational urge to cheer him up. He had to remind himself this was just a dream.</p>
<p>Geralt finally stood up, knees covered in dirt. Julian swallowed around the lump in his throat.</p>
<p>“Do you?” he asked, a hint of desperation in his low voice. Julian waited, unsure of what he was asking. “Forgive me?”</p>
<p>Julian remembered suddenly the last piece he had worked on; the mountain, right. Betrayal, pain unlike anything he had ever felt. That made sense, he supposed. He nodded slowly. “I mean, why not?” he replied, debating why his dream had to be so detailed and frankly lackluster when he could actively be in Geralt’s lap. (He would never objectify the <em>real </em>him, mind you, but… well.) “None of this is real.” At Geralt’s blank look, he added, “I forgive you.”</p>
<p>Geralt just continued to stare at him, expression unreadable. Julian smiled a little nervously.</p>
<p>Not a very good dream, now, the way his heart skipped with anxiety. Finally Geralt turned away, jaw clenched. A moment of silence and he was turning back, “Is this your way of punishing me?” he asked with a hint of hurt.</p>
<p>Julian opened his mouth, closed it. Truly, this Geralt was nothing like the rumors. Just more confirmation that this couldn’t be real, even if the weight of Geralt’s gaze felt <em>startlingly </em>real.</p>
<p>“I don’t understand,” Julian confessed. “I would never—”</p>
<p>He couldn’t finish his sentence, biting the inside of his cheek. He might not have ever met Geralt, or would, but he did know one thing for certain: he would <em>never </em>hurt him. Frankly, he was more attached to the man than he ought to be, considering they had never actually crossed paths, but he had helped Julian in so many ways, being that escape he so desperately needed. (And if he was even half as ridiculously attractive as his interpretation of him, well.) Now he had to question what kind of trick his mind was playing on him and why.</p>
<p>With a sudden growl, Geralt lurched forward and reached out. Julian startled, finally feeling true fear—Geralt was powerful, the rumors had attested to that—but all he did was pinch his arm. Hard, yes, but only for a split-second.</p>
<p>Julian blinked dumbly at him. Geralt stared back, eyes narrowed.</p>
<p>“Not dreaming,” he said gruffly, and Julian could only blink again before the world began to spin. He felt a strong pair of arms catch him as he slumped forward and suddenly all was dark.</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>When he opened his eyes again, he was still in the woods, the sky overhead, sun shining brightly. Sitting up with a groan, he was both surprised and not to find Geralt still with him, watching him with open concern.</p>
<p>“You’re not like the rumors,” he blurted, and Geralt frowned deeply.</p>
<p>On his back were the swords he had so much about. A scar marred his face, over his eye. The rumors hadn’t mentioned that and he wondered idly if it was new. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “Jaskier, have you hit your head recently?” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “Drank something you weren’t supposed to?”</p>
<p>He smiled slightly, and just for good measure discreetly pinched his arm again. Nope, not a dream, still wide awake with Geralt sitting in front of him, waiting for an answer with a comically serious expression.</p>
<p>“No,” he said finally. “I—uh, just, recovering from a <em>really </em>detailed dream.”</p>
<p>He knew lying probably wasn’t a good idea, given the fact Geralt could rip him apart with his bare hands, but he didn’t want to confess the truth just yet. Somehow this was happening. Somehow he was here with Geralt, just like in his stories.</p>
<p>His heart felt a thousand times too big for his chest. Geralt nodded thoughtfully as he scooted closer. “Feeling better?” he asked hopefully. Before he could reply, Geralt was pulling his bag over. “You should probably eat something.”</p>
<p>Julian watched as he pulled out a piece of—<em>something </em>wrapped in cloth. It was only when he unwrapped it that he realized it was a piece of hard bread. Geralt handed him the whole piece, and Julian didn’t have the heart to turn him away, even if the bread did kind of taste like sand. He realized, now, that being at Oxenfurt had had <em>some </em>privileges.</p>
<p>He should tell him the truth. The way he was looking at him with such fondness—Jaskier had obviously meant a lot to him, but who <em>was </em>Jaskier?</p>
<p><em>You</em>, his brain whispered but how could that be? He had just been at Oxenfurt, with Shani and a ton of stuffy professors, wishing for adventures he wasn’t sure would ever come. Now he was <em>here</em>, with Geralt, a man that looked at him like an old friend, eyes warm and familiar.</p>
<p>But he wasn’t his friend, not really. He had hoped for the day, had written about their first meeting a dozen times before landing on the perfect one, but none of that had <em>really </em>happened. He was a stranger to Geralt, and Geralt was a stranger to him.</p>
<p><em>Tell the truth,</em> he told himself, but he couldn’t, not with the way Geralt was looking at him, like he was pleased to even be granted the privilege of being around him.</p>
<p>Had the fight on the mountain truly been so bad? He supposed so, if it had happened like his song.</p>
<p>“I’ll never say such cruel things again,” Geralt said, and Julian focused on him again. “Never,” he continued, reaching for one of Julian’s hands. Julian smiled slightly at the touch, so oddly familiar and yet not. His hand was rough, and so were his own, he realized, even worse than they had been at Oxenfurt. Huh. “I will never leave your side again, Jaskier. Not as long as you’ll have me.”</p>
<p>Underneath the words were something so tender Julian wondered if he was imagining it. He took a shaky breath and squeezed his hand. “Right, well. Here I am.”</p>
<p>Somehow.</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>Julian realized Geralt was in love him just two days later. Him or Jaskier, he wasn’t quite sure what it all meant yet, but he was in love with him. It was evident in every note of his voice, every quick look he aimed his way.</p>
<p>He wondered if Jaskier, the other him, had known that. Or if Geralt even knew it, as he never voiced his feelings so blatantly but Julian had always had a gift for reading people and Geralt was surprisingly easy, given all he’d heard about him.</p>
<p>He wore his feelings on his face, clear as day, as long as you knew what to look for and somehow Julian did. Like he’d had many decades to memorize and learn every slight twitch of his mouth.</p>
<p>Julian knew how easily he could approach him in the dark, how welcoming he would be, strong hands grasping him just right—but he couldn’t. Not without telling him the truth, not without trying to understand what was going on.</p>
<p>He knew him, in a way, but not in this life. Not the way he would’ve if he’d actually experienced all those memories with him.</p>
<p>But it was so easy to keep up with the lie. As he sat around the warm fire with Geralt, who smiled a lot more than he thought he would, he found that he quite enjoyed this particular lie. He should’ve felt bad about it, he thought, but he just <em>couldn’t</em>.</p>
<p>It was like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment.</p>
<p>“Here,” Geralt said once the deer was done roasting, handing him a stick. Julian took it with a small smile.</p>
<p>Julian ate without a word, wondering how he had missed all these little moments in his songs. They felt just as important as the bigger stuff, these quiet moments spent together around a fire. Geralt glanced at him every few minutes, seemingly pleased when he was still there, like he was afraid he’d disappear any second.</p>
<p>He wasn’t going anywhere ever again if he could help it, but could he promise that? If he wasn’t here before, would he still be here in the future? Did Jaskier still exist, or were they one and the same? Was he living his life and vice versa?</p>
<p>His brain hurt just thinking about it. He much preferred just focusing on the lines of Geralt’s face; he looked young still, a result of being a witcher undoubtedly, but those lines—they didn’t lie, showcasing his real age.</p>
<p>Suddenly Julian had a thought. “Is there a river? A—a stream? Anything?”</p>
<p>Geralt looked surprised. “Yes, of course. We can go together after this,” he lifted his stick. “It has been a while.”</p>
<p>Julian blinked, not understanding, before he suddenly got a whiff of himself, stank and powerful. How long <em>had </em>it been? “Right,” he said with a strained cough. “Exactly.”</p>
<p>After finishing supper, they walked together to the nearest stream. Julian only realized what would be expected once they were there and Geralt was swiftly stripping like it was no big deal, like they had done it a million times before. Julian looked away, heart pounding, as he approached the edge of the water and peered in.</p>
<p>He nearly fainted at the sight—no longer was he fresh-faced and eighteen, lines around his eyes and mouth, not too deep but hardly faint enough to be ignored.</p>
<p>“Jaskier,” he heard and then Geralt was at his side, still wearing his trousers, thank the Gods above. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>Julian nodded, clearing his throat and smoothing down his doublet—it wasn’t any of the ones he’d had, before, but he had found it folded neatly in his bag. “Perfect,” he replied, just a pitch too high.</p>
<p>Geralt placed a hand on his back, and Julian shivered. Not because he didn’t like it, but because he liked it a bit <em>too </em>much. He was the worst. The absolute worst. “We can head back,” he said, and all Julian could do was nod, smiling tightly.</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>Julian wanted this. He <em>wanted </em>this life. He had thought so, before, and now he had living proof that this was what he wanted, what he’d been waiting for. Geralt was a lot like how he’d pictured him, but he also wasn’t. He was more talkative than he expected, kinder.</p>
<p>He checked on Julian a lot, making sure he was doing okay, like he knew something was wrong. He still apologized as well, though the apologies were lessening over the days. Julian was glad for that; they just made him feel guiltier.</p>
<p>“I couldn’t find Pegasus,” Geralt said a few weeks in, both of them traveling on the back of Roach. “I tried, but he was nowhere.”</p>
<p>Julian blinked, trying to place the name. He assumed it was a horse, based on context, but he had never owned a horse before. <em>Or </em>written about one. Geralt placed a hand on Julian’s arm, wrapped around his middle.</p>
<p>“We’ll find you a new one,” he continued gruffly. “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Julian nodded. He felt a little guilty for not feeling more upset over the horse. “I don’t see the hurry,” he confessed. “I don’t mind riding like this.”</p>
<p>Without replying, Geralt slowed Roach to a stop and twisted around just enough to peer at Julian, eyes dark and unreadable. Julian ignored the heavy thump of his heart as he stared back. “You don’t?” he asked finally, low and breathy.</p>
<p>Julian swallowed around the lump in his throat. “No,” he whispered. “I don’t.”</p>
<p>Suddenly there was the warm press of lips against his own and all he wanted to do was kiss back, forever and always. It felt—<em>right</em>, in the way only ever playing music had. But he couldn’t, and he knew that.</p>
<p>Pulling back, Julian’s heart ached at Geralt’s expression, a mix of hurt and confusion. “I—I want to,” he assured him. “But we can’t. Shouldn’t.” As Geralt’s confusion only grew, Julian knew he was running out of time. No more lying. “I’m not—I mean, I don’t think—who fucking knows at this point, frankly,” he shook his head with a strangled laugh, “but I have good reason to think I might not be <em>your </em>Julian<em>.</em> Or—or Jaskier.”</p>
<p>Geralt blinked at him. “That can’t be. You’re—I found you after - Jaskier, it took <em>weeks </em>to find you.” He sounded nearly desperate, and that just broke his heart more.</p>
<p>“Yes, well, I - trust me, I wish I could stay but if I’m somehow interrupting this - this other life, I don’t think I can.”</p>
<p>Geralt turned back around and led Roach silently off the road. Julian closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath. This was it. He knew he’d be sent back to his life sooner or later. He opened his eyes once Roach stopped again.</p>
<p>“I am so sorry,” he whispered as Geralt slid off and turned to him, offering a hand. Julian smiled, sad, as he took his hand. Once on the ground with him, Geralt squeezed his hand.</p>
<p>“You <em>are </em>him,” he said with a confidence that would’ve been hard to argue under any other circumstances, eyes steely and sure.</p>
<p>Julian just kept smiling. “I might be,” he admitted. “I don’t really know who I am right now, but.” Squaring his shoulders, his smile grew. “I do know I am happy to have met you, Geralt, no matter the ending.”</p>
<p>“No, you are,” Geralt countered, still holding his hand, squeezing tighter and tighter. “I can prove it.”</p>
<p>Julian pursed his lips, doubtful of such a thing, but If Geralt was giving him a chance, he would take it.</p>
<p>“How?” he asked finally.</p>
<p>“Yennefer,” he replied instantly. Julian blinked at him, trying to remember if he had ever heard that name. He didn’t think so, but he could almost see her, long black curls and mischievous eyes. “If we take you to her, she can prove you are who you are.”</p>
<p>Julian wanted to believe him, more than anything. “I trust you,” he said, because he did, truly, more than he probably should, “but who is, uh, Yennefer, exactly? And why should we trust her?”</p>
<p>Unsurprisingly, Geralt frowned at his questions, still holding his hand tightly grasped in his own. “A friend,” he said before pausing briefly, mouth twisting. “Kind of. Complicated,” he decided on, “but she is the most powerful sorceress I know.”</p>
<p>Julian smiled, unable to help himself. “Magic,” he whispered, unable to hide his awe. He had heard about it, often, but never seen or experienced it. Much like Geralt, he supposed, before this unexpected twist of fate.</p>
<p>“Magic,” he confirmed. “She’ll be able to tell if something is off, or if your memory was altered. Anything.”</p>
<p>Julian smiled tightly. “Okay, um. How do we find her?”</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>Yennefer was a force to be reckoned with. Beautiful, obviously, but equally as scary. She stared at Geralt, expression blank, before turning to Julian with slightly more interest, eyes a little wider. “Now, now, what do we have here?”</p>
<p>“You can tell?” Julian asked, hope and dread mixing in the pit of his stomach.</p>
<p>With a smirk, she turned away. “Follow me.”</p>
<p>He exchanged a quick look with Geralt, his mouth a thin line, before following after her. In the kitchen, Yennefer spun around and clapped her hands together. “I understand you think you’re… not <em>you</em>,” she said, a dark eyebrow arched high.</p>
<p>Geralt cursed under his breath. Julian sat at the table, back straight. “Uh, how do you know that, exactly?”</p>
<p>“I have a thing for reading minds,” she replied breezily. Approaching, she crouched in front of him. “Close your eyes for me,” she commanded, and Julian glanced at Geralt. He nodded stiffly, and he turned back with a deep breath, closing his eyes.</p>
<p>He felt the press of fingers to his temples, soft and warm, so unlike Geralt’s rough touch. He was surprised to find he quite preferred Geralt’s touch.</p>
<p>“Hmm.” She tapped his temple once. “You can open.” Julian opened his eyes. Her eyes stared back at him, piercing and sharp. “Jaskier,” she said, that name again, casual and familiar. “I don’t know the full extent of the situation but I do know this; you <em>are </em>you. The same annoying bard I’ve had to deal with for decades.”</p>
<p>Julian nearly sobbed. “But that doesn’t make any sense,” he said, glancing at Geralt again. “I don’t - I wasn’t <em>here</em>, before. I was elsewhere. At Oxenfurt as a student.”</p>
<p>“You might be him,” Yennefer continued, like he had never talked at all, “but there <em>are </em>substantial gaps in your memory. Don’t seem to be a result of magic, interestingly enough.” She tilted her head to the side. “I could try to retrieve your missing memories, but it might not be very pleasant.”</p>
<p>Suddenly he felt a pressure on his arm. Peering down, he saw Geralt’s hand grasping his arm, just the edge of too hard.</p>
<p>“But I don’t need them,” Julian said, a little too quick. “I mean, I may not <em>have </em>the memories but I also kind of do?” They both stared at him, rightfully curious. He let out a strangled laugh. “It’s, uh, complicated,” he confessed, and that seemed to be enough for the moment; Geralt squeezed his hand and Yennefer stood.</p>
<p>“Well, boys, if you don’t need my help, I think it is time for me to retire for the night.”</p>
<p>Geralt peered at her.</p>
<p>“Yes, you can stay the night,” she continued. Julian wondered idly if she had read his mind. Rolling her eyes, she turned and left the kitchen, muttering, “<em>Imbeciles</em>,” under her breath.</p>
<p>They were both silent for a long time, Geralt still gripping his arm like he was afraid he’d float away if he let go. Geralt was the one to break the silence, surprisingly. “If you want to go back,” he said, “I’ll help you find a way.”</p>
<p>“What if that isn’t an option?” Julian replied quietly. Geralt looked away, clenching his jaw. “And even if it was, I’m not sure I’d want to.”</p>
<p>Geralt’s gaze snapped back to him, fiery and hard. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” he said gruffly. “You must want to go back. You said it yourself - you had a <em>life </em>and—”</p>
<p>Julian placed his hand on top of Geralt’s. “Honestly, not really.” He thought of Shani, the only thing or person he might miss from back at Oxenfurt. The rest of it, well, he wouldn’t miss too much, not with the promise of a new life - <em>this </em>life. “I was waiting for this day,” he continued, softer, heart beating a little faster.</p>
<p>Standing with Geralt, they stumbled to a room, drunk on emotions. They didn’t do much that night, just curled together in the same bed, Geralt’s arms around Julian. He had never felt safer. As he drifted, he already started to compose the beginning line of his newest piece.</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>Julian was the first awake in the morning; as he sat up, he took a moment to watch Geralt as he slept, beautifully peaceful. Finally he slipped out from under the blanket and grabbed his bag from the floor, eyeing his lute.</p>
<p>Shaking his head, he turned back to his bag and rummaged around for some clean clothes. His fingertips skimmed something, rough, toward the bottom and he frowned, digging his fingers in and pulling.</p>
<p>Out came a bright red doublet, textured not unlike scales. Julian laughed once. “Guess I really did grow into my style,” he muttered as he pet the material a few times.</p>
<p>He dug a bit deeper and found something a little more intriguing, the rattiest notebook he had ever seen, nearly torn to pieces. Julian carefully withdrew it, opening to the first page. He recognized those lyrics; he had first written them in his room at Oxenfurt.</p>
<p>The memories came like flashes after that, quick and familiar, filling in the missing pieces from his songs. By the time it was over and he was on the ground, gasping for air, Geralt was at his side. “Jaskier,” he said, voice thick with sleep still. “Jaskier, look at me.”</p>
<p>He slowly turned his head. “I’m okay,” he whispered. “Just - overwhelmed.”</p>
<p>With a curt nod, Geralt was wrapping him in his arms, just quietly holding him. Julian kind of wanted to kiss him. He <em>didn’t</em>, but the desire was definitely there, simmering below the surface. He buried his face in Geralt’s shoulder and took a few deep breaths.</p>
<p>Despite the pounding of his heart, and the swishing of his stomach, he could only think one thing:</p>
<p>
  <em>This is where I am meant to be.</em>
</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>It was weird, remembering and yet still feeling a little like he was in the wrong skin. Like he had lived the life he’d written about but a few of the details were still foggy, probably always would be. Geralt wasn’t riding on the back of Roach for once, walking alongside him. Glancing over, he wasn’t surprised to find that Geralt was already looking at him.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to stay,” he reminded him.</p>
<p>Julian side-eyed him. “But you don’t want me to go.”</p>
<p>Geralt looked ahead. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t.”</p>
<p>“I’m me,” he said, and Geralt nodded. Yennefer had confirmed it. She still wasn’t sure what had happened, but she was certain of that. It was all Jaskier had needed to hear in the end. To know he was the person Geralt had sought out. “I don’t entirely feel <em>like </em>me, but. I think I’m getting there.” He had shown Geralt the notebook and they had talked for a while before Julian had decided to throw it in the fire. There were no need for it anymore. “I do know one thing for certain.”</p>
<p>Geralt waited. Julian reached for one of his hands and squeezed, hard.</p>
<p>“I want to stay with you,” he confessed, cheeks flushed. Geralt didn’t look at him but there was no missing the pleased twitch of his mouth. Julian sighed softly, peering up at the sky. “Do you mind if I play?”</p>
<p>Geralt let out a huff of air, something like a laugh. “I haven’t, not for a long time.”</p>
<p>“I’m actually working on a new piece,” he said, biting his bottom lip. “Want to hear it?”</p>
<p>/</p>
<p>He continued to work on his newest piece through the night, though his ink kept drying too quickly. He finished eventually, long after Geralt had fallen asleep, promising to put out the fire before he joined him.</p>
<p>Dipping his quill again, he elegantly signed his name at the bottom with a small smile.</p>
<p>
  <em>Jaskier</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>